DERELICT At murk sunset and at foul sunrise- Fifteen men of 'em stiff and stark Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum! Ten of the crew had the murder mark- 'Twas a cutlass swipe, or an ounce of lead, Aye, damn my eyes! On paradise All souls bound just contrariwise - Fifteen men of 'em good and true Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum! 17 Every man-jack could ha' sailed with Old Pew Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum! There was chest on chest full of Spanish gold, With a ton of plate in the middle hold, And the cabins riot of loot untold: And they lay there That had took the plum, With sightless glare And their lips struck dumb, While we shared all by the rule of thumb Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum! More was seen through the sternlight screen Chartings ondoubt where a woman had been — Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum! A flimsy shift on a bunker-cot, With a thin dirk-slot through the bosom spot Or some shuddering maid ... That dared the knife And that took the blade? By God! She was stuff for a plucky jade — Fifteen men on the Dead Man's Chest- Drink and the Devil had done for the rest- We wrapped 'em all in a mains'l tight, And a fare-you-well! And a sullen plunge In the sullen swell Ten fathoms deep on the road to Hell Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum! Young Ewing Allison "SHIPS THAT PASS" (An Episode of the Cruiser Patrol) There are ships that pass in the night-time, some poet has told us how, But a ship that passed in the day-time is the one I'm thinking of now, SHIPS THAT PASS 19 Where the seas roll green from the Arctic and the wind comes keen from the Pole, 'Tween Rockall Bank and the Shetlands, up North on the long patrol We sighted her one day early; the forenoon watch was begun, There was mist like wool on the water, and a glimpse of a pale, cold sun, And she came through the dim, grey weather, thing of wonder and gleam, From the port o' the Past on a bowline, closehauled on a wind of dream. The rust of years was upon her- she was weathered by many a gale — The flag of a Dago republic went up to her peak at our hail; But I knew her - Lord God! I knew her, as how could I help but know The ship that I served my time in, no matter how long ago! I'd have climbed to her royals blindfold, I'd have known her spars in a crowd; Aloft and alow, I knew her, brace and halliard and shroud From the scroll-work under her stern-ports to the paint on her figure-head And the shout, "All hands!" on her maindeck would have tumbled me up from the dead. She moved like a queen on the water, with the grace that was her's of yore, The sun on her shining canvas do with war, what had she to With a world that is full of trouble and seas that are stained with crime? She came like a dream remembered, dreamt once in a happier time. She was youth, and its sorrow that passes - the light, the laughter, the joy, The South, and the small white cities, and the carefree heart of a boy, The farewell flash of the Fastnet to light you the whole world round, And the hoot of the tug at parting — and the song of the homeward bound, The sun, and the flying-fish weather— night, and a fiddle's tune, And palms, and the warm maize-yellow of a low, West Indian moon Storm in the high South latitudes of a Trade-filled sail and the boom And the anchor-watch in the tropics, and the old Sou' Spainer's tale. Was it the lap of the wave I heard or the chill wind's cry, Or a snatch of a deep-sea chanty I knew in the years gone by? THERE'S NOTHING LIKE A SHIP AT SEA 21 Was it the whine of the gear in the sheaves, or the seagulls' call, Or the ghost of my shipmates' voices, tallying on to the fall? I went through her papers duly- and no one, I hope, could see A freight of the years departed was the cargo she bore for me! I talked with her Dago captain while we searched her for contraband, And... I longed for one grip of her wheel-spokes like a grip of a friend's right hand. And I watched while her helm went over, and the sails were sheeted home, And under her moving forefoot the bubbles broke into foam, Till she faded from sight in the greyness of wonder and gleam, For the port of the Past on a bowline on a wind of dream! a thing closehauled C. Fox Smith THERE'S NOTHING LIKE A SHIP AT SEA There's nothing like a ship at sea with all her sails full-spread And the ocean thundering backward 'neath her mounting figurehead, — And the bowsprit plunging starward and then nosing deep again. "There's nothing like a ship at sea," Sing Ho! ye sailormen. |